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Don't Tell My Husband

In case you’ve been under a rock for, say, the past five and a half years, Adam and I are pretty awesome.

Now wait, don’t quit reading just yet. I promise this blog post isn’t all about me telling you how awesome we are. But I mean, we do exude awesomeness on a daily basis….

Anyway, back to the story.

Adam is three years older than me – to the day.
That’s right, ladies and gents, we have the same birthday.
Neat, huh? It’s like our own little holiday.
Fun food, parties (yes, plural), and plenty of presents.

This year, we decided to take a trip down to Biloxi, Mississippi near the end of October to celebrate. In an attempt to be a budget-wise adult, I declared the Biloxi trip to be our birthday present to each other.

But what I really meant by that declaration was that we should just get each other a small gift – nothing extravagant.

Four days before our birthday, I went shopping for Adam. He had actually mentioned a couple things he really wanted for his birthday, and I had actually remembered (listened).

First up was an Under Armor shirt. I made my way to Academy, but got distracted as soon as I walked in the door: clearance racks in the Women’s section. Thirty minutes and two trips to the fitting room later, I was ready to go. I had found a shirt and some running capris. On sale. SCORE! With those in hand, I found the shirt Adam wanted and made my way to the check-out line. I’ve got to tell you that right about here I was feeling pretty darn good about myself. I had found items on sale and gotten Adam’s birthday present early.

Next I went to Target to find a digital radio and some other, sundry items. Apparently radios aren’t the hot ticket item these days because I couldn’t find a nice one - well, one that wasn’t hot pink; I didn’t think Adam would appreciate that. Hungry and outdone, I somehow made it out of Target with only candy corn and Lunchables. Weird, I know.

It wasn’t until the drive home that I started feeling bad about this whole t-shirt gift deal. I mean, I had just gotten myself two things for no reason, and I had only gotten him one measly-cotton-pickin’ shirt for his birthday.

Frustrated with birthday shopping (and mostly just really really hungry by this time), I walked into the house with my little bag. I dumped out the clothes and handed the shirt to Adam.

A: “I thought we weren’t supposed to get each other anything?”

me: “Well, nothing big.”

A: “Oh. So this is like the whole Cruise for our Anniversary but I’m Still Supposed to Get You a Gift Even Though You Said Don’t deal?”

me: “You’re always supposed to get a girl a gift. Even when she says you’re not supposed to…. But something little, you know, since we’re going to Biloxi and all.”

If you really think about it and try to balance that whole Academy equation, it's like I didn't get him anything at all. My shirt and capris more than cancel out his one shirt, thus putting me in the Gift Giving Hole. I'm like -2 in the in this whole ordeal!